Minutiae

Summer movie round-up next time. Promise.

• For local bibliophiles—and I know there are a few of you out there—the Philadelphia Book Festival is back, held this year on May 17th and 18th. I thoroughly enjoyed it last year; I got some books for cheap and for free, heard some author readings, and just generally indulged my lit geek. Let me know if you plan on showing up.

• On a somewhat related note, the Philadelphia Writers’ Conference will be held early next month. I’ve never been to a writers’ retreat or conference, although I’ve heard nothing but positive comments from people who have. Maybe I could use an external motivator to set aside some writing time. Anyone been to a conference with a good word for them?

• Continuity errors. A Princess Bride homage that reached farther than it could grasp. Hanging plot threads. The Scrubs finale that aired last night had many of the show's faithful, myself among them, up in arms, and for good reason. Fortunately, an eighth and (I think they mean it this time) final season is currently filming, although it won’t run on NBC. Thus the whole “finale” business. I agree with the other irked fans saying the show deserves a proper ending. Let’s hope we see it some time next year.

• Writing a CV is a real pain in the neck. Like a resume, it’s the initial composition that drains the life out of you; once it’s done, you can add/remove information and tweak it as necessary. Now if only revising stories was that simple.

• Happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers out there. May we make you proud each and every day.

* With gratitude to Elizabeth Bear.

http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/moviehawk/~3/284794214/

http://moviehawk.net/2008/05/06/iron-man-solid-gold/

Many people thought the comic book movie renaissance reached its creative peak with 2005’s Batman Begins, a property of comic giant DC. Though rival Marvel had started the upswing with Spider-man three years earlier, it was thought that DC had claimed dominance when Marvel answered Batman with the underwhelming trilogy-cappers Spider-man 3 and X-Men 3: The Last Stand. Add to the evidence that DC is set to release The Dark Knight this summer to a drooling, anticipatory public. But it seems that Marvel had one more trick up its sleeve, and that trick is Jon Favreau, director of the meritorious Iron Man and key to the studio’s bid to remain relevant.

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Crazy coincidences do happen in real life, I know, but all the same, the plot of Forgetting Sarah Marshall—Judd Apatow and company’s latest—seems a mite thin. Running into the woman who just dumped you while in Hawaii, the very place you went to recover from the heartache? Still, there wouldn’t be much of a movie otherwise. Thankfully, the production team eschewed some touches of reality for something much funnier and more satisfying than ordinary life.

After being unceremoniously dumped by his longtime girlfriend Sarah (Kristen Bell), Peter Bretter (Jason Segel) takes off to the Aloha State for a chance to nurse his wounds. Who should he meet there but Sarah and her new boyfriend, rock-star Aldous Snow (Russell Brand). If the sun and surf aren’t enough to take Peter’s mind off his ex, there’s the adorable hotel desk clerk (Mila Kunis) whose kindness proves easy to misinterpret.

Two things set Forgetting apart from your run-of-the-mill romantic comedy—character development and the supporting cast. The central four experience change, if not growth, throughout the movie; by the end, they are all no longer the same. As for the lesser roles, they’re just so damn likable, for the most part. Whether it’s the absent-minded surf coach Chuck/Kunu or Jonah Hill’s sycophantic waiter Matthew, they’re as much faces to trust as comic relief. They become a pseudo-family to Peter, and their desire to help him overcome his hang-ups feels earnest.

Extra kudos to the filmmakers for not being ham-handed with the romance; the script never shoehorns in robust love where there clearly isn’t, but the cast does exude an innocent but tangible chemistry that makes it all hang together. And in case there was any worry, there are plenty of laughs here, making for a nice balance between sentiment and snark.

The Apatow juggernaut continues to steamroll ahead, and with fuel like Forgetting Sarah Marshall, it’s not likely to stop any time soon. It’s a fun diversion before the summer season kicks into high gear. More on that (hopefully) next time.

Grade: B

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I'm sorry it has to be this way, but unfortunately it cannot be helped!

With the exception of infrequent entries here on [sic], I haven’t written anything in a solid month. Normally, this leaves me feeling restless and irritable. I get an itch in my fingers and I sleep poorly for all the images flickering, kinetoscopically, across my mind’s eye. But then when I go to the page, hoping to release the creative energy, nothing happens. My idea well has run dry; the words have vanished, and I don’t know when—if—they’ll ever come back.

Lately, though, that hasn’t been the case. I’ve been too distracted by trips and events and various other happenings that I haven’t had the time to notice my lack of productivity. At least not consciously.

Somehow, though, deep down, I recognize my negligence. And it’s starting to affect me. I find myself taking out the notebook I always carry around with me far more often, several times a day, jotting down scraps of images, throwaway lines, searching for an idea in every situation and scenario. Whenever I’m reading, I ponder how I’d have told the story differently, or whether there’s any kernel within it I can use myself.

Mostly, though, it’s the daydreaming. In moments of conversational lull, I’ll stare out into nothingness. Suddenly my senses cease registering the world around me while my brain drifts elsewhere. To ancient Greece, where gods and mythological entities tread. To an island populated by ghosts of the slain. To a future where imagination comes in zip-seal packages. Mentally, I’m in Story.

All of which means I should be writing to sate this craving (and thus not here). But my curiosity has the better of me: When you’re not writing, does it affect how you act? Do you feel the urge to return to writing almost instantly or does it creep up on you? Do you follow the urge or resist it?